I protested that it hurt with him and expressed a preference to do it with Rene. My protest was partly actuated by something akin to jealousy. Somehow, I didn't exactly relish the idea of Rene fucking Maisie. But Rene intervened, and his word was law. It wouldn't hurt me now if I did it with Leonard. I was used to it now.
And so, with Leonard crouched on one side and I on the other, both watching with wide eyes, my foster brother Rene straddled Maisie's naked body, got his cock into a crevice which fitted around it like a tight little ring of flesh and, without a mishap or indication of discomfort on her part, fucked her until he had an orgasm.
Maisie never stirred or made a sound. She just lay there quietly, looking up into his face with her big, wondering eyes until he had finished and then calmly wriggled out from under him, sat up and murmured:
"Now it's our turn to watch!"
"Didn't it make you feel nice, Maisie?" I asked in some astonishment at her placidity. "When Rene and I do it, T just tremble all over, it makes me feel so good!"
"Sure, it makes me feel nice. I like to do it!" affirmed Maisie, but it was apparent that she had not yet experienced a real orgasm, even though Leonard had long since gotten her maidenhead out of the way.
With some inward misgivings I submitted to Leonard's ministrations and, of course, quickly discovered that my fears were groundless, for his dickey was in almost before I knew it, and this time without causing me any pain. Not counting Leonard's previous attempt, this was the first time I had been really fucked by any boy except Rene and, despite my affection for him, the novelty of a new cock had its emotional reaction and very quickly brought my quivering organism to that delicious borderland wherein for a few seconds the senses vibrate in ecstatic anticipation before definitely rendering their delicious offering. Another wiggle or two served to precipitate the ejaculation.
I was about twelve years old when what I have just related occurred. A few days later, on the way home from school, a boy named Bryan sidled up to me and rather timidly asked me if I would do it with him.
Bryan was a boy I would have described as nice. He was fourteen or fifteen, always dressed very neatly, had a pleasing personality and agreeable features. To say that I was not surprised at the overture would be an exaggeration, yet I was not displeased. If I had any doubts as to precisely what he meant by "do it" with him, the doubt was dispelled with one look into his flushed face and averted eyes and the uneasy, furtive glances he cast about as though to assure himself that there was no one else within hearing. Nevertheless, to delay an answer until I could gather my confused thoughts, I murmured innocently:
"Do what with you?"
"Aw, you know what I mean, Jessie!"
"No, I don't!"
"Something nice… like you did with Lenny Connors!"
His reference to Leonard caused me a slight chill of apprehension, but did not entirely prejudice me against him. He continued to coax, and I, beginning to enjoy the thrill of being begged for something with such humility, neither definitely denied nor promised my complacency.
"Where could we go to do it?" I asked evasively.
His answer to this revealed the fact that he was well informed regarding my private life and affairs.
"Couldn't we go up to your attic before your mamma comes home?" he suggested hopefully.
This was something Rene would have to be consulted on, so I evaded a direct answer by saying I'd tell him the next day, and with that I skipped off.
"Bryan wants to do it with me. Shall I let him?" I asked Rene.
"Bryan? Bryan who?"
"Bryan Thompson, that boy that lives over on Little Goose Neck Road."
Rene considered the matter for a moment and deciding apparently that it was of insufficient importance to trouble his head over, disclaimed responsibility with an indifferent shrug.
"Oh, I don't know. Do what you want. What do I care?"
"He knows about Leonard and me. I bet Maisie… ' "Gee! You better do it with him so he won't tell. I got to go now and see a chap. Goodbye."
And so it came about that Bryan's name was added to my now growing list of youthful paramours. He was bigger than Rene or Leonard, and had something which neither of the other two possessed, a growth of dark, crisp hair on his pubic regions. He hurt me a little, but he was careful and despite the slightly painful distension I soon began to feel the warm, sensuous tremors which precede orgasm. His slow, cautious thrusts brought my organism to a, pitch of excitation such as I had not yet experienced, and when the climax came I almost fainted with the intensity of the ecstasy. Afterwards, he showed me where my fingernails had actually cut into his flesh while I was hugging him in the crisis. He was a very gentlemanly little fellow and thanked me in the most courteous and serious manner imaginable for having let him do it to me. In addition, he made me glow happily by telling me that I had the prettiest legs of any girl he had ever seen. Bryan had the makings of a real courtier.
Before long my popularity was spreading and new suitors for my favours were appearing almost magically. Sometimes even boys and young men I did not know accosted me in the streets, some humbly and supplicatingly, and others quite impertinently.
Instead of being alarmed at this situation I took it as a flattering indication of my popularity. And, inevitably, I discovered that the soft nest between my legs, upon which a filmy growth of silky hair was beginning to grow, could be made to hatch financial rewards as well as genetic pleasures.
That some horrible fate did not overtake me as the result of my complacency with utter strangers is only proof of the old, old theory that guardian angels look after the safety of children and fools, sometimes, at least.
Once I made an appointment with a man to meet him at a certain corner after dark, expecting to be taken to a room. He led me into an alley of such sinister and abandoned aspects that I did indeed become alarmed and refused to go any further. For a while he tried to persuade me with flattering words and promises of generous compensation, but the more he talked, the more uneasy I became, and finally, cursing me viciously, he turned away and quickly disappeared.
One night a young man of genteel but delicate physical features accosted me in terms so respectful and courteous that I listened to his insinuations and consented to accompany him to his room which, though far from pretentious, was neatly and comfortably furnished.
I had long since discovered that men's first thoughts were to see me naked as quickly as possible; they seemed literally burning to gorge their eyes with the spectacle of my nudity, so as soon as I was in the privacy of a room I always undressed down to my hose and slippers without waiting to be asked.
No sooner was the door closed behind us in this instance than I started to take off my clothes. But the young man stopped me with a gesture.
"No, no!" he exclaimed, "don't undress!"
I paused uncertainly.
"I've got to take off my clothes… my panties anyway… don't you want to see me naked?"
"No, no! Don't take off anything! I'll tell you what to do, don't do anything except just what I tell you. You'll get your money."
"But… but what do you want me to do?"
"I'll show you. Just sit down and wait. I'll be back in a minute."
I sat down in the chair he indicated and he disappeared into an adjoining room, closing the door behind him. I heard him moving about, and five minutes later he appeared again, strip, stark naked. He was rather thin, but his skin was white and clean. His cock, entirely indifferent to the proximity of a feminine spectator, hung down inert and listless.
Crossing the room he unlocked a cabinet and took from it a bundle of thin, pliant switches. Selecting one of these he extended it toward me and murmured in a voice which was both low and supplicating: